


an eternal promise (one like magic)

by mangozaya



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, Magical Elements, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, as always taehyun holds everyones collective braincell, friendship dynamics, sometimes all you need is some solid communication, soobin has a cat named monie !! yeonjun wants to fight said cat, the epilogue will be rated M but this piece is honestly more T, they write letters but have working ovens lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29186160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangozaya/pseuds/mangozaya
Summary: Soobin selfishly wants to keep Yeonjun—for longer and longer every time Yeonjun slips away on another adventure—nestled into the backdrop of his home, between the spaces of Soobin’s heart that he already occupies.(In the same way, Yeonjun's travels lead him far from his small village, but there's always something—or someone—keeping him tethered to home.)
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69
Collections: TOMORROW X TOGETHER BIGBANG: 2020





	an eternal promise (one like magic)

Yeonjun bursts through Soobin’s door early on a Sunday morning, bringing with him the torrential downpour of a hurricane—a storm in the most literal sense.

Soobin can only watch wide-eyed as a river swells beneath Yeonjun’s feet as he strides in, a useless pink umbrella in his one hand and a strawberry raincoat in the other. Soobin’s patterned rug soaks with the onslaught of water, burning it a deep red, the color crawling up to where Soobin sits slack-jawed on his couch.

It’s far too early in the morning, and Soobin lets Yeonjun know as much.

“You’re kidding me.” Soobin manages, his mouth gaping uselessly.

Shaking his hair out much like a disgruntled cat, Yeonjun glances at the overturned spell books and empty cauldron on the coffee table as Soobin is cramped up on the couch—a plate of cold pancakes balancing precariously on his thighs, his surrounding blanket stained with syrup—and decides that what Soobin needs is a proper brunch and a Fairy Godmother.

It doesn’t matter that such a line of work has been out of commission for decades, because Yeonjun insists _he knows a guy who knows somebody, who knows someone else_ who can vouch for Soobin’s character.

Yeonjun is met with a pillow in the face.

“Soobin!” Yeonjun sputters, delicately removing a feather from the corner of his tongue. Soobin immediately winces and backtracks, going to move his pancakes while aiming to stand up and reach Yeonjun, but he thinks better of it at the last second and remains awkwardly placed on the couch cushion.

“You leave for two months, and _that’s_ the first thing you say to me?”

Yeonjun holds out his hands in a trying defense. “Listen, I met a guy last month who swears he knows a real Fairy Godmo—”

“I’ve got another pillow right here.”

As Soobin raises his hand, pillow clutched tight in his palm, his doesn’t register his thigh suddenly jolting to accommodate the momentum in his throw, and Soobin’s pancakes clatter to the floor in a heaped pile of mush, with the sailing pillow just narrowly missing Yeonjun’s head the second time.

Following Soobin’s ruined breakfast, syrup already staining the floor, they look at each other for a long moment. Soobin’s hand is still raised, and Yeonjun’s arms come across his chest in defense, and they dissolve into laughter a second later; Soobin hides his grin behind his hands, and Yeonjun leans over from the force of his amusement.

“I missed you, you _loser_ , even if you did try to drown me just now.”

Soobin sniffs at the sludge of water and dirt that continues to track onto the carpet, and Yeonjun rubs the back of his head sheepishly, picking Soobin’s pancake plate up and setting it on the table.

“You say I’m supposed to be the dramatic one,” Yeonjun grumbles, and settles beside Soobin with a quick leap over the trail of water still running across Soobin’s apartment.

They’re quiet for a moment, and Soobin slumps against Yeonjun’s shoulder, burying into his chest as a familiar gesture. Yeonjun’s response is automatic, as he wraps an arm around Soobin’s dipping shoulders, and Soobin distantly wants to fold himself altogether into Yeonjun’s lap, clinging onto Yeonjun’s chest as tightly as he can. It’s a remnant of childhood friendship, but Soobin doesn’t know if he can ask for such affection anymore; not when Yeonjun won’t stay in town for more than a few weeks, and Soobin is left with only simple details of Yeonjun’s travels.

It doesn’t bother him so much anymore.

(Soobin has always been good at lying—not to others, but to himself.)

“So how long do I get you for this time?” Soobin mumbles into the thick of Yeonjun’s cable sweater, which remains suspiciously dry, and Soobin can feel the vibration of Yeonjun’s hum from where they’re pressed together.

“Just two weeks, and then I’m heading out to the old village with my buddy. I’ve got some herbs to collect up north, and Wooyoung’s headed that way.”

Soobin hums. “How is he, then? I saw him last week by the gulley.”

“Dunno. I haven’t seen much of anyone since I got back.”

“Is that so?” Soobin turns a bit to look up at the sharp cut of Yeonjun’s jawline, and Yeonjun hums.

“Yeah, I suppose. You’re my first and only stop this time, for the next two weeks. You’ve got me all to yourself this time.”

The weight of Yeonjun’s statement doesn’t pass by Soobin unnoticed, and they quiet a moment. The air is humid at best, clingy to the back of Soobin’s light cotton fit, soaking him in a slight sheen of sweat. There’s always been a million unsaid words that are never shared between them both, and Soobin simply learns to live with each missed opportunity.

Soobin breaks the silence.

“Yeonjun, we are not living in this swamp for two weeks.”

“Hey! I swear this isn’t my fault, you know they just–”

Soobin brings a hand up in amusement, settling it lightly against Yeonjun’s shoulder to halt his explanation. Soobin knows that Yeonjun’s slight elemental energy is often unmanageable, and he’s given Yeonjun numerous options to control the rush of water that follows Yeonjun in times of high emotion. Despite Soobin’s expertise, Yeonjun’s never taken him up with any amulet or energy charm that Soobin has to offer. There’s never been an explanation as to why.

Soobin’s stopped asking.

“Help me clean up your literal flood, and I’ll set the table for dinner.” Soobin compromises.

Yeonjun grins, and jumps abruptly from where they’re curled together, leaving Soobin to grunt and drop his shoulder into the dip of the couch. The warmth that Yeonjun had pressed into his side dissipates, but Soobin isn’t left cold, far from it. Something in the fire of Yeonjun’s eyes sends a spark of something warm across Soobin’s chest, and Soobin fondly looks on as Yeonjun paces around the house in excitement.

It was comforting, how Yeonjun blended right into the space of Soobin’s small apartment—how Yeonjun fit so carefully between the vials of gently wafting potions, how he shone brightly against the moon lights that Soobin used to time the strongest pull of waves, how Yeonjun’s morning shuffles across the carpet were as expected as the waft of open-flamed breakfast—and it was as if Yeonjun never left. As if Yeonjun had been there all along.

Soobin selfishly wants to keep Yeonjun—for longer and longer everytime Yeonjun slips away on another adventure—nestled into the backdrop of his home, between the spaces of Soobin’s heart that he already occupies.

Yeonjun slips out of sight into the guest bedroom.

Soobin wordlessly rises to turn off the whistle of the kettle.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If Soobin times his mornings just right, his coffee is pleasantly accompanied by the rising sun.

If he times his afternoon break properly, he has time to leave a bowl of warm milk beside the stone steps of his door.

If he’s quiet and still enough, a small orange tabby will pad gently across his garden and settle beside the steaming milk. Soobin will be allowed to quietly watch as the kitten combs through its own fur before gently lapping up the contents of Soobin’s porcelain bowl, and Soobin finds himself caring for this small kitten in the two months that Yeonjun had last left.

Soobin has affectionately nicknamed the tabby ‘Monie’, and she becomes another fixture in Soobin’s home.

She’s strangely perceptive, Soobin realizes, and she starts gently pawing at Soobin’s door just over a week after Soobin leaves a small leg of turkey by his doorstep. Another week passes and Monie accompanies Soobin out to town, hopping between patches of sun along the stonewalk, purring and rubbing her flank against Soobin’s ankle when she wants to be held. His little tabby grows protective over Soobin, hissing at any stranger that passes too close, and Soobin is far too amused to tell her off. He simply holds her close, pressing a light kiss to the tip of her pink nose every so often, and continues on.

Unfortunately, In his haste to settle Yeonjun into the apartment and soak up the water-drenched carpet, Soobin forgets to leave his door slightly ajar for Monie to pad into the apartment around the evening, and the high pitched scream from Yeonjun’s room startles the old-fashioned mop from Soobin’s clasped hands.

Soobin rushes into the clearing to watch wide-eyed as Yeonjun jumps atop his bed, waving wildly at a small mass in the corner, covered by a blanket but moving swiftly underneath.

“Soobin, _do_ _something_.”

“What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? What are _you_ doing, I- _fuck_ , please just get rid of that thing.” Yeonjun jabs his thumb to the corner of the room and pressed up against the wall, only narrowly missing the clockwork to the right of his temple.

Yeonjun watches for a crazed moment, eyes darting to locate the scrabbling blanket, and Soobin all but dissolves into giggles. Soobin’s hands come to cover his mouth as he bends over slightly in his amusement, and he then delicately settles on the floor, legs crossed comfortably, and pats his lap. Soobin rubs his palms together, whistles out a low tone, and stays far too still.

Yeonjun thinks Soobin’s gone slightly mad.

Yeonjun all but _jumps_ when a flash of orange bolts out from under the blanket now uselessly on the floor, and before Yeonjun can shout any warning, the orange tuft rams into Soobin’s thigh and finally scrabbles into his lap, and Yeonjun properly blanks.

Soobin’s entirely unfazed.

He sits calmly, thumb brushing just behind the ear of the orange tabby, and Soobin’s lip curls in amusement as the small kitten gets comfortable in his lap. Yeonjun swears there’s beady eyes trained on him as the kitten _purrs_ , nudging Soobin’s thigh with a small pink nose and burrowing into itself even further, monopolizing Soobin’s attention as he gently scratches behind the kitten’s ear. Yeonjun shifts weight between his toes and heel, and takes the scene in carefully.

“You went and got yourself an animal? You have an entire pet and you forgot to tell me-”

A loud _meow_ startles Yeonjun, and he clamps his mouth shut, gaze narrow and trained on the provoked tabby. Soobin takes a quick look at both of them and rolls his eyes.

This particular kitten is evil, Yeonjun has decided.

Soobin has clearly been charmed, because he resumes petting the tiny menace, gently rubbing between the kitten’s ears, tapping its forehead a few times to keep the kitten from fully falling asleep in his lap. Soobin looks unfairly _pretty_ , and it takes a lot for Yeonjun to maintain his glare, so he stops trying. His embarrassment fades into a pink-tinged endearment.

Funny how he thought he could ever maintain a harsh edge to his eyes when it’s Soobin who sits before him. His very Soobin who patiently waits for Yeonjun to crash his place every few months the way he is now patiently nudging this kitten to instead rest beside his legs and not on them. The same Soobin who offers up his residence no matter how short the notice is that Yeonjun gives him, if any warning at all. The very Soobin who is before him now, soft and bathed in the glowlight of a wickering candle just off to the side, warm and drowsy in the way his fingers graze more gently with how he pets his kitten, careful and wonderful in the way he lifts his gaze to smile back at Yeonjun’s mystified eyes, even more lovely with the way he—

“I’m running out of cat food, you up for a trip to Taehyun’s later?”

Yeonjun snaps out of his haze and allows a small smile to form. “I was going to suggest going tomorrow actually, but I’m almost done unpacking. He’s got a few things for me to pick up anyway.”

“Wonderful-” Soobin claps his hands and then winces an apology to his kitten’s unhappy squeak, “-I’ll just finish a vial for Taehyun, and we can be on our way.”

Yeonjun squints. “Vial? Taehyun’s been commissioning for a lot these days.”

Soobin seems to not hear him, and shuffles across the room, searching for something. He digs through a cabinet as Yeonjun watches, confused and a bit curious. Soobin might have actually missed Yeonjun’s question, and he prompts his friend again.

“Soobin? I’m a little worried here, what’s the vial for?”

Soobin snaps his eyes up to Yeonjun and gives a little gasp, “ah, sorry I didn’t- nah, Taehyun’s just looking for an easy sleeping remedy.”

“He isn’t sleeping again?”

“It’s a sleeping potion for his apprentice, actually.” Soobin hums as he stands up, cradling Monie in his arms, and Yeonjun startles a bit. Taehyun has always spoken of needing extra help around the shop, but had never allowed anyone to help for more than a week—save for the occasional hand from Soobin or Yeonjun himself.

“No shit? Taehyun was serious about getting himself an apprentice then? I thought he was just considering the prospect. I can’t imagine anyone quite suits Taehyun's standards.”

“Beomi- ah, Beomgyu’s a good fit for the shop actually.”

“Yeah? Where did Taehyun drag him out from?”

Soobin gives a light shrug, “He’s from out North, but he’s got a house up here, near the old wishing well.”

Yeonjun rubs his hands together, wincing as he presses against a blister. “I still can’t believe Taehyun got himself his very own apprentice, I’m really missing out on all the gossip here, aren’t I?”

Yeonjun faintly muses this like someone who merely watches a passing cloud without wondering where it’s headed, and Soobin can’t help the sinking feeling down to the pit of his stomach. It’s one thing to know Yeonjun leaves every few weeks without securing any method of communication for months, but it’s another thing altogether hearing that Yeonjun can seemingly brush off his absences like dust collected on a countertop.

“Yeah, I guess a lot changes in two months.”

Soobin’s smile is soft, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Taehyun’s shop on the weekend comes with its own brand of chaos, but it’s one that Soobin has learned to navigate perfectly.

He’ll vouch that his own small household is brilliant in its own right, but the bustle of the city is somehow more familiar, and far more comfortable than the stone-cased walls of the village he had settled into as a child.

Just after sunrise, when the first shops open with the call of a particularly irritated songbird, Soobin weaves between patrons of a busy city, dodging elbows and avoiding thick-heeled boots like second nature. He’s got a trained sixth sense for the particular boulevard that Taehyun’s shop rests atop—he knows exactly which ice cream vendors are willing to sneak in additional starry sprinkles on his double-raspberry chocolate triple scoop, which cauldron maker promises an actually durable iron that won’t _literally_ blow up before his eyes, and what exact brick to double-tap for a cramped magic-owned non-magical bookstore he’a come to look fondly after as his second home.

It’s within the high walls of this hidden library that Soobin first learns of magic beyond the living—of magic infused into the very material of the Earth.

He’s always been one for the restricted sections and hidden staircases of the bookstore, seeking out old literature and fraying scrolls that tell stories closer to fiction, of the life that thrums just below his heels. If anyone bothered to look closely, as close as Soobin did years ago, the city rumbles a welcome to anyone who greets it kindly.

The city is warm, cordial to anyone who treats it with care, offering a gently sloped ramp when accessibility is needed, a winding incline when otherwise appropriate. His city smoothes over stone cobble steps for young children and offers cover when the weather greets them with torrential downpour, jutting out stone covers and unfurling plastic umbrellas enough for those who grace store fronts and street corners.

The city is _alive_ , and Soobin might be the only one who bothers enough to listen.

Yeonjun’s maybe not so sensitive to his surroundings.

He barrels into several vendors the moment they step into the city that afternoon, bringing with him an array of disgruntled shouts that Soobin apologizes profusely to in an attempt to get Yeonjun off the hook. It works for the most part—Soobin’s been running through the streets of the city his whole life; everyone who remembers Soobin as a bright-eyed child can’t stay mad at him for long, no matter how sulky Yeonjun might be.

Then again, Yeonjun always got them into trouble as children, herding street animals to block major cart paths for a few laughs, rubbing mud into barrels meant for fermenting alcohol to mess with the rude tavern owner who refused to keep tabs for his dwindling customers.

(Maybe the tavern owner had deserved that specific instance, but it didn’t stop Soobin from puffing his cheeks. He was always being dragged along with every new plan Yeonjun thought up.)

“He should have really watched where his wheels were turning,” Yeonjun grouches, and Soobin can’t help the fond smile he directs at Yeonjun.

“It’s the tail-end of harvest, you know better than anyone that stock will run dry soon. Sellers are bound to be more aggressive this time of year.”

“Yeah, yeah, still doesn’t give them the right to be rude,” Yeonjun sniffs, and Soobin directs them down a long alley, complete with small planter boxes lining the low housing windows. Taehyun’s shop is nestled in a more withdrawn portion of the city, away from the bustle and a mile up from the shoreline. Sometimes Soobin can taste the salt in the air from the early morning docking and deliveries.

The strong grown ivy is more apparently as they near the wooden door of Taehyun’s store, often mistaken for a greenhouse or plant nursery of sorts, but Soobin’s been let in on a little secret: Taehyun’s bewitched the vines to drift along corners and shelves of the store, listening in one everything that Taehyun might miss. Soobin takes extra care to never mutter anything under his breath: he doesn’t need Taehyun knowing that he actually never learned the difference between the rustic metals of cauldron shines. Taehyun might actually have his head if he knows that Soobin’s been merely making educated guesses for the past few months.

Yeonjun pulls a wooden post to unbolt the door and gingerly steps inside, Soobin following just behind him, and a familiar twinkle of chimes lights from the corner, bringing attention to their arrival, and Yeonjun startles at a voice he doesn’t recognize.

“One moment please, I’ll be right with you!”

_Is that?_

His suspicions are confirmed a second later when a new face comes bounding out to them, curly haired and bright-eyed, the new boy’s bright orange sweater rather blinding among the more drab color of wooden shelves and rustic decor. The newcomer seems to halt at the sight of them, and Yeonjun is about to raise a hand in greeting when the boy before him suddenly breaks into a huge smile, immediately striding right towards them.

“Soobin!” Comes a quick burst of delighted laughter, and Yeonjun watches in mild confusion as _Beomgyu?_ catapults himself at Soobin, bringing with him an undercurrent of magic so tangible that Yeonjun feels blinded for a moment. Did Beomgyu understand the magic that fizzed like static coming from his skin?

Soobin must clearly feel it, because he goes still in Beomgyu’s hold for a second before fully relaxing, giving an equally fierce hug in turn as Beomgyu lifts Soobin slightly in joy, bringing him back to the ground with little effort. Yeonjun takes in the scene with slight confusion, because hadn’t Soobin met Beomgyu just a month prior? If Soobin was a steady stream, flowing with or against the natural tide of nature, Beomgyu’s aura more resembled the winds of a hurricane.

Yeonjun can’t quite place how he feels, but it’s near whiplash with how quickly Soobin is comfortably nestled in Beomgyu’s arms, leaning into him as Beomgyu turns to Yeonjun with a bright, “I’ve heard a lot about you! We have your stock of ginger root you need, I packaged it this morning actually. Taehyun actually didn’t think that you’d-”

“Beomgyu, stop giving my second favorite patrons a hard time,” a new voice comes into the clearing, and Yeonjun raises an eyebrow in amusement, slightly grateful to hear a familiar voice from between the high shelves. Taehyun brushes past a set of delicately placed vials and surfaces with a familiar grin gracing his features, coming close and clapping Yeonjun on the shoulder, “heard you were back to cause chaos.”

Yeonjun snorts and draws Taehyun into a fierce hug, ignoring the way his friend customarily protests, “and I see your back to giving me shit as usual, who places first if not me or Soobin?”

Taehyun matches Yeonjun’s grin with one of his own, and gives a hand of faux-dismissal, “Obviously Madame Josie, she brings me the finest of cranberry scones, unlike you two freeloaders.”

Soobin laughs from just behind Yeonjun and untangles himself from Beomgyu— _they were still hugging?_ —and comes to rest close to Yeonjun’s side, with Beomgyu drifting back to Taehyun.

“I guess you don’t need my potions after all, I only knew it was a matter of time before I was replaced,” Soobin notes, amused gleam in his eye as his hand comes to rest in his pocket, toying with the vial.

“Look at that, you’ve gone and made Soobin sad,” Yeonjun gasps— _I’m devastated actually_ , Soobin adds, laughter bubbling in his throat—“so you can make it up to us by sending for my ginger root and an extra side of chocolate melts.”

Taehyun drops the act, rolling his eyes in good-nature as Beomgyu looks on with amusement, quietly taking in the dynamic of the three long-time friends, bouncing on his feet as he perks up at the request for ginger.

“Let’s spare Beomgyu here, can you go grab the ginger?”

Beomgyu nods quickly, smile never sliding off his face, and goes to find the parcel behind the counters while Taehyun regards Yeonjun again, clicking his tongue.

“So who was the unlucky soul on your trip this time, Wooyoung? I haven’t seen much of him recently.”

“Nah, actually Changbin joined me for a short time around the beginning, but we parted around the Golden gates. I think he went out West.” With that, Yeonjun raises an eyebrow and Taehyun catches on quickly, lowering his head and snorting into his chest.

Soobin doesn’t return the gesture in confusion, “I thought Changbin lived beyond the gates?”

“He does.” Taehyun quips, and Yeonjun cackles.

“Yeonjun, _explain_ ,” Soobin huffs and bats Yeonjun’s shoulder gently, “I’m clearly out of the loop.”

“Chan lives out West.”

“ _Oh_.”

Yeonjun drops to a whisper, “Changbin’s been too quiet, I think he’s plotting something.”

“He’s plan– I’m sorry, what?” Soobin’s eyes are wide.

Yeonjun stills, and then shakes a bit in laughter.

“Sorry, sorry. That sounds like he’s trying to cheat someone out of a deal or something. I promise he's left those days behind. Nah, he’s been rather hush about it all, but I have a feeling he’s gonna be decorated in flowers soon. I can't quite get anything out of him, but I think Changbin’s might propose in a week’s time, if everything goes alright.”

Soobin whistles low under his breath. “Can’t say I didn’t see it coming, Changbin put up a fight for him.”

“He spent a week proving himself to Chan’s family, I’ve seen nothing like it before. Everyday by sunrise, he’d be in the field tending to their cows and piling on the hay stacks miles high.”

“He farmed for them?”

“Making a rich boy work and respect Chan’s livelihood, it seems fair to me.”

Soobin ponders for a moment, and then nods. “Makes sense, Changbin’s family has always looked down on us, I suppose.”

Yeonjun nods and shrugs mildly, “I have a feeling it’ll work out, if Chan’s family is anything like Chan. I’ve never seen Changbin so smitten, he was practically flying out of there when I bid him my goodbye.”

“I thought Changbin could fly, though?”

“That’s besides the point-” Yeonjun waves his hand dismissively, but he snaps his fingers a second later, “-you think we’ll be invited to the wedding?”

Taehyun blinks. “Well he better, but aren’t we getting ahead of ourselves?”

“That’s what I thought, but you should have seen Changbin, he calls Chan his _beloved_ to anyone who will listen,” Yeonjun exaggerates his shudder, “I have to whack him every time.”

(“I think it’s cute, actually,” Soobin notes quietly, but only Taehyun hears him, raising an eyebrow in Soobin’s direction.)

As Soobin and Yeonjun continue to speak on Changbin, Beomgyu looks on curiously at the pair, turning to Taehyun for answers when he finally loses track of the conversation. When Taehyun notices Beomgyu’s questioning eyes, Taehyun’s got nothing to share, and shrugs mildly.

“You’ll probably be meeting Changbin at some point,” he notes to Beomgyu, and Yeonjun breaks from his conversation to catch Beomgyu’s gaze.

“Yeah, how long are you sticking around for, then? Taehyun hasn’t driven you away yet?”

“I’m afraid it’ll take a bit more to scare me away,” Beomgyu responds cheekily, winking just behind Yeonjun, who turns to catch Soobin stifling laughter behind his hand.

“Nah, I actually think I’m here permanently, as long as I don’t get run out or something-” Beomgyu throws Taehyun a good-natured grin, and Taehyun sighs into his collar, “-I’ve left the nest, as my grandmother put it, and I ended up here. I applied for this job the very next day, and I guess the rest is history.”

“That’s surprising-” Yeonjun drags out slowly, eyeing Taehyun carefully, “-why him?”

“ _Yeonjun_.”

At Soobin’s slight exasperation, Yeonjun turns and fixes his friend with a look, “you can’t tell me you aren’t curious.”

“He’s been working here for the past two months, don’t put Beomgyu on the spot like this.”

Beomgyu clears his throat and Yeonjun swings back around, but Beomgyu doesn’t look too bothered. For a moment, Yeonjun thinks he catches a glint of challenge in Beomgyu’s eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared.

“You want the truth?” Beomgyu quips.

“Obviously.”

“Beomgyu, you really don’t need to—”

Soobin starts to mutter, but Beomgyu cuts him off gently, his eyes crinkling in fondness as he nods at Soobin, “it’s alright, I suppose it’s only normal for people to gossip.”

Yeonjun can parse if there’s a jab in that statement, and so he remains silent, prompting Beomgyu with his chin. Taehyun takes care to roll his eyes at the theatrics.

“I’m the only one among us who can properly skin a fish.”

Yeonjun blinks. A beat of silence passes.

Taehyun properly snorts in laughter and shakes his head, blond hair shifting from his eyes. “I wish he was kidding, but that’s half the reason unfortunately.”

Yeonjun’s mouth gapes, and Soobin steps forward, pressing his palm lightly to Yeonjun’s shoulder blade, bumping him forward slightly. Yeonjun had been so sure that Beomgyu was from some older family, their lineage dripping in more powerful magic, but Beomgyu’s eyes don’t hold any tinge of darker magic; even Yeonjun has to admit that Beomgyu’s wide eyes seem rather honest.

“Oh, that and I know my way around metals, something Soobin here still needs a few pointers around.”

Yeonjun frowns, about to shoot back that Soobin was the best help around the store—that he had been for years at this point—but Soobin merely shrugs from Yeonjun’s side with a hand coming to tug gently at his sleeves, ears tinged pink with embarrassment.

“You couldn’t tell the sleep potion from chamomile tea last week.”

Soobin was _bantering_?

“Luckily I have such a talented potion maker on my side then,” Beomgyu grins.

Yeonjun feels a bit lost, looking between Beomgyu and Soobin, who seem to be engaged in a friendly battle of sorts, but the sort of which Yeonjun isn’t familiar with. Taehyun looks mostly unbothered, checking his watch every few seconds, as if this scene was regular.

(Maybe it was; Yeonjun realizes that he wouldn’t know otherwise.)

Unknowing to Yeonjun’s slight internal monologue, Soobin doesn’t let up, continuing to dish out what he was getting in return from Beomgyu. Yeonjun tunes in to the tail end of the conversation.

“Who else would keep you from blowing up these shelves?”

“Well, I’m there to-”

“Children!” Taehyun’s clap is sharp enough to cut off Soobin and Beomgyu, and Yeonjun eases up slightly, eyeing his forgotten ginger that was still sitting in a velvet pouch on Taehyun’s counter. Taehyu claps again, and Beomgyu straightens up as well, rolling his shoulders back and turning to Taehyun attentively. “What’s up boss, I’m listening.”

“You know what needs to be stocked today, and you can take your break whenever you choose, it’s going to be a bit slow today, but keep an eye out as always.”

Beomgyu salutes, but it can’t be mistaken for mocking in any sense; there’s a friendly edge to his movement, and Taehyun gestures to an inventory shipment in the corner of the shop. “On you go then.”

Soobin gently wraps a hold on Yeonjun’s upper arm and leans into his space, his breath tickling Yeonjun’s neck, sending light shivers down his collar, as he whispers into Yeonjun’s ear for them alone to hear.

“I’m grabbing you something when you run a bath tonight, and you’re not allowed to refuse. How does a strawberry bath fizz sound?”

Yeonjun nods, leaning a bit into Soobin, giving Soobin a thankful smile—both for keeping his voice low and thinking of Yeonjun’s aching muscles after months of travel.

“Then I’ll meet you at the register.”

“You don’t get to pay this time, I know you.”

Yeonjun holds his hands up in defense, blinking in innocence, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Soobin bites back a smile but it bleeds through anyway, and he let’s Yeonjun’s arm go, walking off to look for cat food and strawberry infused scents, a slight bounce in step as he turns from Yeonjun, who in turn walks over to retrieve his ginger, Taehyun on his heels. Taehyun steps behind his own for a moment, rummaging through cabinets, and emerges with a snapping bean plant, settling it down on the counter. Yeonjun watches as the flower of the bean turns delicately towards the sun, as if mesmerized.

“A lot changes around here, huh?”

Taehyun gives Yeonjun a funny look, but nods anyway. “I guess you could say that, but I just got more help around here, our village brings in new mouths to feed every week it seems.”

“I noticed, it took longer to pass through town.”

“How long are you back this time then?”

“Two weeks.”

Taehyun shuffles out from behind his fresh polished counter and settles by Yeonjun’s side, dipping his head low and observing Beomgyu stocking packaged salamander and newt feed.

‘You know, Beomgyu’s a bit sweet on Soobin.”

Yeonjun shifts his eyes quickly, before dropping them to start at the fabric of his boots, heavy with lined buckles. “I don’t think–”

“Don’t give me that Yeonjun, you know what I mean.” Taehyun tuts, but not unkindly. He must take pity on Yeonjun, because he settles down properly on the floor, patting the space beside him for Yeonjun to join, and keeps a soft glint in his eye.

“He only talks about you, all those months you travel. I think I could write a book about you for our collections, you’ve found some rare herbs that clients often ask about.”

Yeonjun says nothing, and Taehyun mindlessly continues.

“We started stocking lavender just for Soobin, actually. I’m guessing you once told him of its sleep qualities.”

Yeonjun’s voice is barely a whisper. “He wasn’t sleeping well for a period of time, and an Auntie out west showed me how to create a vial of lavender for the bedside.”

Taehyun clicks his tongue, startling Yeonjun.

“He doesn’t need you, you know.”

It’s a jarring statement, and blood rushes through Yeonjun’s ears as his senses turn icy. His stomach curls without warning, and he feels a bit of bile rise to the bottom of his throat, and the magnitude of his own reaction startles him. Yeonjun grips his satchel as an anchor. Taehyun quickly continues, realizing how his words came across.

“Let me finish Yeonjun. He doesn’t need you because he’s been his own person since I’ve known him, he’s strong that way–” Taehyun smiles to himself, “–he’s not one to ask for anything, but it’s _always_ been you. You’re both _impossibly_ stubborn.”

Yeonjun shakily exhales, and glances up to where Beomgyu’s grinning at Soobin’s attempt to hold several packages of cauldron paints, his grip coming to innocently steady Soobin, but his hands continue to trail and settle the small of Soobin’s back. Soobin stills a moment—if it’s in response to Beomgyu’s touch, or to merely avoid dropping Taehyun’s stock, Yeonjun doesn’t quite know—but Soobin leans into Beomgyu’s hold, and Yeonjun’s words get caught in the back of his throat. He feels a simmer of something uncomfortable settle into the pit of his stomach.

Yeonjun wonders—in gaining the richness of his travels, but no longer knowing the everyday of his village—if he should feel guilty for how much he’s missed over the years.

(He hasn’t got a clear answer.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It only takes Yeonjun another day to realize that, more than missing out on new faces around town, he can no longer place familiar sites. He doesn’t have old memories associated with certain streets anymore, and childhood landmarks seem to have eroded with time.

It’s been nearly a year since he’s been back to this particular corner of town, but he’s rudely startled by how much has changed in such little time.

It’s a bit shocking, but it’s like plunging into a bath that’s more lukewarm than cold, because he still knows most street corners and remembers which cobblestones crack under the slightest pressure, but he no longer knows _who_ takes up each corner of town, and he can’t quite place _where_ he can find fresh produce or the finest meats anymore.

Soobin doesn’t seem to notice Yeonjun’s slight nerves, and carries on into the heart of town, a quick-stepping Beomgyu in tow. Yeonjun can only follow them both in slight confusion as he was previously _sure_ that his regular vendors were left of the dried-up fountain, not several streets to the right.

There’s a faint trace of mourning for what was once familiar, but Yeonjun learned long ago that he had to adapt quickly; not many people wait for him to re-familiarize himself with the life he once knew, he has to take his matters into his own hands. Soobin might be one of the only few who gently lead Yeonjun through newly decorated streets, quietly noting where the best cuts of chicken or freshest of strawberries can be found, and Yeonjun carefully retraces his town in his mind, noting all the new landmarks and shops that look too pristine against the age of his own home.

Yeonjun takes in his village carefully, missing Soobin stopping a short few feet before him, startling Yeonjun out of his daze with a reflexive, _oi, watch where_ —

Soobin’s hand comes to gently rest on Yeonjun’s shoulder, and Yeonjun almost takes another step forward, but between Soobin’s light gasp and Beomgyu’s bubbling laughter, Yeonjun looks up and his question fades in his throat. The streets are _chaotic_ , bordering on charming, and Yeonjun’s eyes widen comically.

Yeonjun’s never seen his village quite like _this_ before.

It’s a splash of color from every set-up tent, ornate fabrics piled high and linens bound tightly, fruits hanging delicately from the sides of carts as vendors made their voices known, shouting their daily selections to the already overwhelming bustle of the streets. Yeonjun can’t take his eyes off of _anything_. He’s aware that none of these vendors are local—it was routine for foreign stands to pop up every summer, bringing with them herbs and materials from distant villages and sky-high cities—but the sheer volume of foreign goods is expansive in a way Yeonjun has never seen in his small village, and Yeonjun can’t pinpoint where the line of carts ends.

Soobin seems to get it as he takes Yeonjun’s wrist lightly, skimming over his pulse and tugging Yeonjun forward.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? They started setting up by the dozens, and I guess our money was enough for them to keep coming back,” Soobin’s tone is whimsical, just barely audible over the bustle of village life, “I keep finding fruits I never knew about before, like did you know that tigerfruit properly exists? I always thought Beomgyu was just making it up.”

Beomgyu throws a grin over his shoulder, “I would never lie about something so integral to my diet.”

Yeonjun hesitates to answer them both, because none of this was remotely surprising to him; he’d been traveling for years, researching for even longer, and the majority of _new items_ Soobin was enamored over were things that Yeonjun had come across before, so he doesn’t comment. Soobin and Beomgyu’s equal fascination is something Yeonjun can’t bring himself to undercut.

Yeonjun nods carefully, wishing he could take part in whatever flurry of emotions his companions were experiencing. He feels a bit more muted blue with every familiar item he notes on such unfamiliar carts.

“Yeonjun!” Beomgyu’s call seems distant, and Yeonjun looks up to see that Boemgyu’s significantly further ahead than he’d realized. Soobin stands between them, glancing at Yeonjun curiously. Yeonjun didn’t realize he’d been dragging his feet for the past few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“Can you keep my place with Hyuka? I need to grab something for Taehyun, but it’s in _that_ direction.” Beomgyu juts out his thumb behind him.

Soobin claps suddenly, and Yeonjun feels his heart jump for a second time. Yeonjun’s aware that he’s been on edge all morning, but he doesn’t understand what’s contributing to his uncharacistic reactions. Soobin doesn’t give him a chance to introspect before rounding on Yeonjun, his excitement fizzling in the air like static.

“Ah! Hyuka opens in a few minutes, but I have to run to Namjoon first, could you hold my spot as well?”

“Guys-” Yeonjun starts weakly, but his voice gets lost, and Beomgyu is already wandering off in the direction of whatever he’s collecting for Taehyun. “-I don’t know who Hyuka is?”

Soobin gives Yeonjun a funny look, “I mentioned him earlier, he got me the tigerfruit I was looking for.”

“I might have missed that,” Yeonjun winces, but Soobin only smiles softly, his dimples faintly creasing as he gently nudges Yeonjun to look behind them. Yeonjun didn't know what he was expecting, but the vendor behind him is far removed from what he was visualizing.

_Hyuka_ is young, more so than most of the aged travelers who took to setting up carts before retirement, but that’s not what’s throwing Yeonjun so far to the side. It’s the layers of torn burlap clothing that hang from his frame, contrasting the muted pink fabric of his cart, piled high with the bright orange and red of fruits that pair awkwardly with how calloused and beat Hyuka’s hand’s appear. He’s clearly the rugged sort, the ones that always prove the kindest when Yeonjun meets them during travel, but he’s never seen someone like Hyuka outside an adventurer’s setting. To see _Hyuka_ in a stationary place like his own village is jarring.

Yeonjun would have been more intimidated, but Hyuka has an unmistakable charm to him—his untamed hair curling outward at the ends, wide brown eyes sunken in with what must be days of travel without rest—and he proves expressive with a simple eyebrow quirk in Soobin’s direction.

Soobin chimes in behind Yeonjun, teasing Hyuka. “He’s still setting up for the morning, but that’s him. Don’t worry, I know Hyuka looks scary, but he’s actually-”

“What he means is that I’m terrifying.” Hyuka interrupts, throwing Soobin a quick flash of his teeth, his smile more terrifying than the apparent playful edge he had been going for. _How was Soobin finding these people?_

“And _please_ stop introducing me to people with that nickname, it’s Hueningkai.”

Soobin shrugs mildly. “I think Hyuka suits you better.”

“It takes away all my credibility as a-”

“-as a lone traveler who's killed some of the ocean’s most _feared predators_ in a ship dock gone rogue, _I remember_ , you never fail to remind me.”

“Get going before Namjoon’s stand become impossible to navigate, I don’t want to hear anything else from you,” Hueningkai snips, but there’s no heat behind his words; his eyes twinkle as he nods to Soobin, “and you didn’t need to leave your friend here, you know I hold your items aside, but I’ll take him under my wing until you get back.”

“Look after him for me,” Soobin addresses Hueningkai, but his gaze lingers on Yeonjun, quiet in his endearment as he squeezes Yeonjun’s wrist lightly before stepping away. Yeonjun subconsciously follows him forward, flushing when he realizes his motion.

Soobin leaves Yeonjun with a charming little wink before following Beomgyu into the thick of the crowd, and Yeonjun’s cheekbones dust a soft pink as a gentle warmth settles comfortably in the space of his chest. He’s a bit starstruck, wordlessly watching Soobin’s deep blue ribbon flutter as Soobin’s footsteps grow more distant, and an awkward cough to his left brings him back to his current moment.

Yeonjun blinks rapidly and turns to Hueningkai.

“Your boy won’t be long. Soobin’s charming enough, he always gets a good cut of Namjoon’s morning duck roast.”

_My boy? Is that what he thinks?_

Yeonjun comically blinks again. “Right.”

Sensing that Yeonjun’s spaced out again, Hueningkai simply shrugs and resumes counting his produce, gently layering tangerines high on his cart and fiddling with a round of taut rope to keep all his fruits from tumbling over the sides.

“Well if you’re going to hang around until they get back, you might as well help out.”

Hueningkai prompts Yeonjun, gesturing to several small crates with an assortment of fruit just off to the side, and Yeonjun wordlessly nods, leaning down inspect them closer. It’s not awkward, but Yeonjun doesn’t know how to approach Hueningkai—he goes for the only route he’s familiar with.

“How do you know Soobin?”

Yeonjun just catches Hueningkai's eye before the vendor leans down once more to open another crate of something with a tangy scent. “His cat befriended me first actually, I found him neck-deep in my blueberries. Soobin was close to tears trying to apologize, thought I suppose my appearance didn’t help that.”

Yeonjun thinks to comment that Hueningkai's appearance was nothing to be wary of, but Hueningkai continues, his voice mild, “You’re friend is really curious, isn’t he?”

At this, Yeonjun bristles. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t mistaken me, I don’t mean any harm,” Hueningkai takes in Yeonjun’s steel gaze with a measured look of his own, “It’s not unusual for villagers to acquaint themselves with us, but I think I can call Soobin a friend. It’s just _curious_ , because we don’t stay for long, so there’s no benefit of friendship with anyone here. I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but I have quite the reputation here, and I have fine information to assume my appearance leaves people to whisper amongst themselves, but Soobin just asked me where I bought my burlap. Funny, isn’t it? Him and his cat are both rather funny. I suspect he came last week just to catch me at the tail of the evening for whatever reason, I don’t think he even bothered buying anything.”

“Soobin has just always been like that.” A _lie_ , but Yeonjun’s not about to open up to a stranger, no matter how acquainted Soobin was with them.

Yeonjun’s aware he’s not being conversational, but he has nothing to add. He doesn’t know how to explain to Hueningkai that it wasn’t like Soobin to shy away from friendship, no matter how fleeting. It had taken Yeonjun a while before admitting to himself that he might be the cause of Soobin accepting friendships that might dissipate with distance or time.

It’s one of the kinder qualities of Soobin, no matter how bittersweet.

He continues arranging Hueningkai's cart, catching bits of conversation from surrounding villagers, quietly mulling in his own thoughts, before settling on a question for Hueningkai to break their silence. He doesn’t care too much for the answer that Hueningkai might give, but he asks regardless.

“Is it possible to keep in touch with Soobin, with a schedule like yours?”

“If I ever figure out the mail carrier system.” Hueningkai notes plainly, as if that explains everything.

Yeonjun supposes that Hueningkai's avoidant answer speaks for itself.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When Yeonjun had promised Soobin two entire weeks, Soobin selfishly wanted to believe that he’d be able to weave himself into every moment of that time, but he’s not ignorant enough to take Yeonjun’s words _literally_.

Still, Soobin can’t help his slight dejection when Yeonjun wakes up a week in, just to announce that Taehyun’s out of some particular herb that he _absolutely_ had to collect the next morning, which was only a half-truth, but Soobin didn’t mind the stilted reasoning—he knew it wasn’t in Yeonjun nature to sit still for more than a few days at a time, and this was Yeonjun’s way of getting out for a bit without upsetting Soobin.

Yeonjun had woken him up this morning with a slight nudge of the shoulder, murmuring a soft _good morning_ paired with a later _i’ll head out, don’t miss me too much_ , but Soobin had dozed off soon after, only waking once more in the afternoon to feed Monie.

The irony of Yeonjun’s parting greeting isn’t lost on him, because for how patient and reserved Soobin finds himself to be, there’s only a delicate string keeping him tied to Yeonjun nowadays, and it unravels a bit more with every passing month that Soobin greets. It’s always Soobin watching out for letters that come with less frequency from Yeonjun, leaving Soobin to fret for months; he knows that mail carrier systems often fail with such long distance, but the worry that knots in Soobin’s stomach only rises to leave a bitter taste in his mouth when he thinks of how removed he is from Yeonjun’s everyday.

Soobin has long admitted he might be waiting for a reality that was never promised to him—one that was never in the cards, because Yeonjun had never been one to stay in one place for long, even within the walls of their village—and Soobin fears he’s grown selfish.

Selfish in asking Yeonjun to come back to him every time he’s back in town, no matter how short the visit. Selfish in monopolizing Yeonjun’s time when it’s clear that Yeonjun was never meant for his small village.

Yeonjun heart was always set to travel to the ends of their world, and Soobin supposes he’s a passing cloud that dissipates with dusk; Yeonjun’s life was never meant to hold someone like Soobin close, no matter how much Yeonjun tried to retell his stories in the hopes of sharing himself with Soobin. It was the same way that Soobin could never explain how their village strummed with new life after every passing harvest, because Yeonjun wanted to leave it all behind. Yeonjun could never fully understand the charm of their small village, but Soobin in turn would never understand wanting to sink into novel sands and dirt with every newfound morning.

In lieu of swirling thoughts is how Soobin finds himself at the kitchen table alone, mindlessly stirring his afternoon tea with the company of Monie off to a corner, who was currently finding a particular ball of lint endlessly entertaining. Soobin had spent the last hour marinating the duck roast from a few days prior, saving raw strips for Monie’s evening meal, and all that was left was to wait for the duck to tenderize in the oven.

That, and for Yeonjun to come back home, but Soobin knew better than to count down by hours. Time never played fair, stringing Soobin along and dropping him at his lowest.

Stagnation gets to him, and he slouches further into his seat, the cushion flat and uncomfortable, his head slightly filled with cotton. It was easy to doze off in the afternoon heat—with Monie properly napping and Yeonjun unavailable to pop-out unannounced from any corner to demand company, Soobin doesn’t notice his eyelids growing heavy. His head nods gently in time with the _click click_ of his kitchen timer, but Soobin doesn’t register his surroundings.

He doesn’t know what sense hits him first.

Monie’s nails dig deep into his thigh, not nearly enough force to cut through his torn jeans, but enough that Soobin reflexively hikes up his knee, banging it loud enough against the table for it to lurch forward an ich or two, full startling Soobin awake, the cold shock skittering down his arms.

His head is muddy, knee throbbing with a newly forming bruise, thigh aching from where his skin almost split from Monie’s claws, but he doesn’t get a moment to compartmentalize, because an acrid stent fills the kitchen slowly, but it doesn’t take Soobin long to understand that in the time he dozed off, his duck roast must have badly charred.

There’s no real haste in turning off the oven, but Soobin reaches blindly sideways, stumbling from his wooden chair, dropping harshly onto his knees and blinking away muted black spots from his eyes. The over dial twists off, but the smoke continues to permeate his kitchen, and Soobin finds that in this moment, he just _doesn’t care_.

Soobin slumps down on the side surface of the kitchen cabinet, and thuds his forehead against the orange peel of his cabinet drawers. If he balls his fists against his palm, digging manicured nails deep into his skin, his tears may just surface to the corner of his eyes without falling, and so he does as much. Monie has wandered over, gently padding up to Soobin—if she senses the spike in Soobin’s nerves, she doesn’t shy away, instead curling alongside Soobin’s thigh, pink tongue peeking out as she laps gently at his slightly swollen knee, sensing the pulsing pain from deep within his skin.

He reaches to her without hesitation.

It’s a delayed admittal, but Monie being a steady presence means more to Soobin than he realizes in the moment. Monie fur tickles against his chin as she squirms slightly before settling into Soobin’s arms, purring against his forearm and grounding Soobin for the moment. He can’t help but scrunch his nose roughly, willing his sinuses to stop burning with the onslaught of smoke and the urge to cry.

He almost lets out a harsh laugh, clawing its way up his throat and threatening to spill over—he wasn’t even sure if Monie understood what had just happened, but she was here, and that was enough.

The emptiness of his apartment makes itself known, and he hangs his head in exhaustion, bundling closer to Monie.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out the second time, but the prodding to the right of his shoulder feels nothing like the scratchy foot pad of Monie, and Soobin’s got little idea where he is on the floor of his kitchen. As the touches to his back become more insistent, Soobin hisses in irritation and swats out blindly, connecting his palm to something more solid, but his lazy movement isn’t nearly enough to fight off whatever’s pressing into the blades of his shoulder.

He blinks once. Twice.

Soobin reaches out a second time into empty air and cracks an eye open against the pale, filtered light of his kitchen overhang, and a gentle grasp comes to encircle his floating wrist.

Soobin’s eyes open fully.

Yeonjun’s eyes are blown wide in panic, still covered in dirt from a day’s trek, fairy dust smeared where his collar meets the reddened skin of his neck, and Soobin almost smiles— _almost_ , but his woodpecker pangs build to a headache, and Soobin allows himself to fall forward, knocking painfully against Yeonjun’s shoulder.

Soobin only distantly catches Yeonjun’s panicked rambling, ghosting along his skin, like muted tones underwater.

“-I didn’t understand where the smoke was coming from, you can’t _scare me_ like this, I just- _fuck_ , are those scratches? Soobin, are those _scratches_? Where is your damn cat-”

“Wasn’t Monie.” Soobin mamages, but Yeonjun’s still muttering.

“Shit, you’re just-” Yeonjun flounders his thoughts a moment, arms waving a little too wildly for how close they’re pressed together, but Soobin’s too mesmerized to calm him down, “-just come here for a moment. Let me hold you.”

“ _Yeonjun_.”

It’s a rasp, barely audible despite the stillness of the air, but Yeonjun crowds closer, cocooning Soobin and pressing his palms against the sides of Soobin’s ribs, the ridges of his chest startlingly evident despite Soobin’s layers. Yeonjun noses into Soobin’s collar, and Soobin finds that the lingering scent of Earth and herbs isn’t strong enough to scrunch his nose like it usually does.

“Soobin, are you okay?”

Subdued and gentle. Yeonjun doesn’t push for answers. He delicately runs his fingers along Soobin’s sweater and holds his breath, listening to Soobin’s own exhales slowly evening out.

“It wasn’t Monie.”

“I _know_ , I just said- she’s a good cat, I know, I just don’t understand where these came from.”

Soobin hisses as Yeonjun thumbs along a scratch, unintentionally pressing harder than necessary, and Yeonjun retracts his touch immediately, a quick apology folding into the dense of Soobin’s collar.

“She woke me up because the oven was smoking,” Soobin moves to gesture behind himself, but Yeonjun’s hold doesn’t let up, and the corner of Soobin’s mouth tugs upwards before he can help it, “guess we’re eating leftovers again, though I do wish you could have tried the roast duck-”

“To _hell_ with the roast duck.”

There’s a quiet fury lacing Yeonjun’s tone, one that Soobin isn’t too familiar with, but he doesn’t move from Yeonjun’s hold—though Yeonjun’s anger was a rolling wave, Soobin takes it in as a gentle tide. Soobin understands enough that it isn’t directed at _him_ , but he doesn’t know where it’s stemming from, so he keeps quiet. Yeonjun rolls his knuckles lighty against Soobin’s back, trailing across the ridges of his spine.

“What’s really going on, Soobin.”

_Nothing_ , Soobin goes to say, but his mouth is muffled against Yeonjun’s collar, and it comes out sounding more like a disgruntled huff against Yeonjun’s skin.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just forgot to set the timer.”

“You don’t usually forget things like that.”

“Sure, but we can’t all be like you, now can we?” Soobin expects his usual banter to break Yeonjun’s measured gaze, but it seems to fall short with the way Yeonjun squares his shoulders slightly, his rings digging into Soobin’s skin from where he’s still working small circles into Soobin’s back.

Soobin turns his head to look at Yeonjun, but his angle is off, and he instead just gets Yeonjun’s chin. It shimmers with a gentle blue, and Soobin belatedly remembers that Yeonjun still hasn’t washed off the fairy dust.

“Soobin.”

Soobin tucks himself back into Yeonjun without a response.

“Binnie?”

_Ah_. His nickname is a gentle roll off Yeonjun’s tongue, but it pulls at Soobin without his permission.

“You know I’m here for you, right? Even if something isn’t wrong, or whatever- uh, what I think I’m getting at is just asking for you to turn to me when you need, and I know you do obviously, but you can trust me with things like this.” Yeonjun’s words float and fall off like rainwater on a bubbled umbrella, but Soobin catches every last one of them.

“I know you are,” Soobin murmurs, but his response comes out stilted, and he doesn’t know whether Yeonjun catches on or not. The beginning of something unfair crawls it’s way up Soobin’s throat—he fights it down, locking it away in the pit of his stomach. Yeonjun didn’t deserve the selfish part of all this.

“I’m serious Binnie, I’m always going to be here for you.”

Yeonjun says this as if it’s an indisputable fact, one as easy to assure as it is to breathe, but a rush of static flits around Soobin’s temples, and he doesn’t answer. He hangs listlessly in Yeonjun’s grip.

_You aren’t allowed to promise me that._

It’s an ugly little thought, but Soobin doesn’t want empty words.

He’s been hanging onto too many lately.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As it always comes to, Soobin spends their last day counting down the hours before Yeonjun packs up his belongings and sets off for another few months on the road.

He’s arranging breakfast, something he insisted on making for them both despite Yeonjun being the better cook between them, but Soobin needs something to distract him. Monie paces somewhere nearby, but she’s mostly been wandering the gardens the last week, lapping up every bit of sun before the chill of the autumn sets into their village, forcing Monie indoors to avoid drastic rainspells.

It’s quiet. Not uncomfortably so, but Soobin’s been caught up in a dulled headscape the past few days, and Yeonjun’s been treating him like glass; it’s equal parts infuriating and kind.

Soobin’s cutting up carrots, leaving a few aside to pack into later boxes that he’ll force Yeonjun to carry out with him, but for now he neatly piles on wedge-shaped vegetables to the side of his counter, layering them in sequence. Yeonjun’s at the table, carefully arranging herbs of his own, bottling them in a green liquid that Soobin doesn’t ask about, but in turn Yeonjun never offered an explanation for the foul smelling preservant.

“Would you ever come with me, then? If I ever visit somewhere you’ve always wanted?”

It shouldn’t startle Soobin like it does—Yeonjun’s spoken like this before, pressing Soobin on which locations he’d give up his time for to visit, maybe stay for a few weeks—but Yeonjun’s never asked him outright to accompany him. He’s never fashioned his words to include Soobin in his travels.

It’s with this that Soobin just misses the thickest portion of the carrot, just missing nicking his thumb, but shallowing skimming the knife along the curled length of his palm, hissing as the knife drops onto the counter with a sharp clatter.

It’s a superficial cut, barely tingling the nerves in Soobin’s palm, but it’s startling enough to make his vision go hazy, tears pricking his eyes.

When Yeonjun looks up a moment later, this time with a pinkish liquid that seems to swirl of its own accord, Soobin’s got a dishcloth poorly pressed into his palm, one hand held loosely in the other, and a single drop of blood falls to catch the corner of his table, inking his fine white marble in a deep, crimson. It trails down Soobin’s wrist delicately, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s more than Yeonjun needs to see before he lurches forward—his chair being pushed aside carelessly as it tips to clatter to the floor, making Soobin wince in surprise despite his pulsing hand—but Yeonjun is by his side a second later, wordlessly grasping his forearm and thumbing alongside the cut on Soobin’s palm.

“It’ll close up in a few minutes, but I have salve that’ll help, just wait here-”

“Jjuni, it’s fine, really.”

“Let me do this for you, _please_.”

Soobin doesn’t answer, but he wordlessly holds his arm out, and Yeonjun returns with a small bandage and murky salve, soothing it along the fainting red line on Soobin’s palm. The morning falls away to reveal them both against the shadow of the afternoon, and the moment is saccharine sweet.

They fall back into a pattern that they haven’t been in for a while. It’s something so fragile to the touch, and Yeonjun doesn’t shift suddenly, fearing he’ll break the delicate glass between them. There’s something tentative with how Soobin moves closer, The glow of the afternoon hits the side of Soobin’s frame, outlining him clearly and painting him in monochromatic hues. 

Something about the moment makes Yeonjun stupidly confident.

From his distance, Soobin’s faint layer of foundation is visible under the filtered light from the window, and Yeonjun marvels at the slight purple tinge to the corners of Soobin’s eyes. He always did have the prettiest array of colors lining the creases of his skin, today being no exception.

The slight rumble of Soobin’s apartment falls into the background as Soobin presses against the counter, bringing Yeonjun with him, his wrist still in Yeonjun’s hold. Soobin leans as if he’s accommodating Yeonjun into his space, his gaze intense and heavy as he glances lower, eyes flickering to settle on Yeonjun’s lips, wet from the way Yeonjun’s tongue darts out, both from expectation and slight caution.

There’s a moment’s pause, and Yeonjun holds in his exhale, not wanting to break their silence, watching as Soobin presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, gaze drawn anywhere else but to Yeonjun. Soobin’s not quite meeting his eye, but his thumb lightly skirts the hem of Yeonjun’s coat, and Yeonjun is made aware that he’s suddenly in several bulky layers, and far, far too warm. There’s a stir in his chest, a flush of red creeping up to his ears, and Yeonjun all but melts forward, gently dropping his forehead to Soobin’s collar, listening to the sharpness of Soobin’s sudden intake of breath.

Yeonjun’s soft _tell me to stop, and I will_ is lost on the tip of tongue, and instead he buries his head into the slope of Soobin’s shoulders, pink strands of hair tickling the base of Soobin’s neck, and Soobin tentatively goes to wrap his arms against Yeonjun, finally loosening up just enough for Yeonjun to gather a rush of confidence.

Yeonjun doesn’t get to marvel Soobin further, because the first tentative press of his lips against the base of Soobin’s blushed neck is delicate, butterfly-light to allow for Soobin to draw back at any moment, but Soobin’s light gasp spurs Yeonjun forward, and he tucks himself up to Soobin’s chin, simply sharing warmth for a moment.

Yeonjun realizes—for all the time he’s spent thinking that Soobin was the self-assured one when it came to their dynamic—that what Soobin might need is for Yeonjun to prove that this isn’t just _in the moment_ , but something Yeonjun wanted for a long time.

He decidedly pulls Soobin closer against the curve of his hip in the hopes that Soobin will understand.

Soobin does. He tracks Yeonjun’s movement as the older draws back, only to gently level himself with Soobin, his breath in gentle puffs across Soobin’s skin. Yeonjun nudges forward, ghosting along the inseam of Soobin’s lower lip, close enough to touch but still a distance that leaves Soobin a chance to make his own decisions.

Yeonjun realizes he doesn’t have to be so cautious. Soobin parts his lips against Yeonjun, pressing firmer against the plush of Yeonjun’s pout, thumbing over the sharpness of Yeonjun’s jawline, giggling into their shared breath. Yeonjun wants to melt into the precious boy before him, breathless and high on the fact that Soobin’s before him, reciprocating with warmth of his own, simply sharing space with him.

There’s something soft and unspoken about being so wrapped up in Soobin—something that decidedly feels like coming home.

They’re lazy for a few moments, Soobin catching his lip in gentle tugs as Yeonjun rocks forward on his toes, hands tangled in messy curls and drawing Soobin closer and closer with every shared gasp, both of them in sync until Soobin’s suddenly impatient, arching into Yeonjun with a fervor that Yeonjun doesn’t know how to handle, and it’s suddenly much too warm despite the chill of the morning.

Yeonjun’s trails his fingertips down Soobin’s spine, settling on the small of his back, but Soobin nips at his lip the same time he decides to dig his knuckles into the dip of Yeonjun’s hip bone, and Yeonjun gasps, a stutter falling from the part of his lips, and draws back to fully take in Soobin.

Soobin might just be the prettiest thing Yeonjun has ever seen. His swollen bottom lip is glistening from where Yeonjun gently leans back, but not before his eyelashes flutter against the rise of Yeonjun’s cheekbone as Yeonjun leans down once more to press a kiss against the bridge of Soobin’s nose. Soobin’s eyes are closed as he takes every small touch with a gentle smile gracing his features, and Yeonjun’s grounding touch is tender against the curve of Soobin’s back. He’s weightless, headspace like cotton and miles away from any reality that’ll drag him away from Soobin, and Yeonjun thinks this might be his safest space.

He wants to keep them in this moment for longer, He wants to never, never let go.

When Soobin lashes flutter open once more, Yeonjun catches Soobin’s eye, notes the rosy pink hue dusting his cheekbones, his lip caught up between his teeth from where he’s looking unabashedly in Yeonjun’s direction, and there’s such an unfiltered _fondness_ that Yeonjun feels everything settle around him.

It’s the small but final push that Yeonjun’s needed all along, and something warm unfurls in his chest, clinging to his skin like remnants of a late summer.

“I love you. I just thought you deserved to know.”

Soobin startles so harshly that Yeonjun’s can’t help a twinkling laugh, eyes bright and hold light along Soobin’s wrist, thumbing over his quickening pulse. Soobin’s expression gives nothing away, but Yeonjun’s known him long enough to recognize the flush on the tips of his ears, and his confidence melts over them gently.

Yeonjun knows he hasn’t made a mistake—it was never a matter of _if_ Yeonjun would admit his feelings to Soobin, but rather always a _when_. Soobin’s gentle assurances and steady presence over the course of their entire lives had made sure of that.

“You never said anything before today.”

It’s soft, not unlike when Soobin curiously asks about the herbs that Yeonjun brings back from his travels. It’s a statement and quiet acknowledgement warped into one, and Yeonjun traces the vein along Soobin’s forearm.

“I finally said something, didn’t I?” Yeonjun settles on the light cheeky statement, but one day he’s going to wrap himself entirely up in Soobin and whisper _how do you expect me to even begin describing how I feel about you?_

It earns a smile from Soobin, who looks more comforted by the second. Soobin’s always been one for actions more than words, so Yeonjun doesn’t push him to confirm anything—he doesn’t need to hear those three little words to know that Soobin feels the same. Yeonjun doesn’t mind waiting for as long as Soobin needs.

“Binnie?”

Soobin raises an eyebrow to show he’s heard him.

“What if I just,” Yeonjun waves his hand at nothing in particular, and Soobin narrows his eyes, trying to parse through what Yeonjun’s saying, “I mean, it’s been long enough, right? What if I just, you know?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding-”

“What if I _stayed_ , Soobin. I need- wait, I _want_ to work this out with you. I don’t want to leave you.”

Soobin immediately fidgets in Yeonjun’s hold, dropping his gaze and unwilling to meet his eye, and his smile slips from his face, like a light slowly dimming. and Yeonjun slightly panics, watching Soobin closely. _Did I say something wrong?_

“You can’t stay here.”

Yeonjun blinks, bewildered. Soobin was still refusing to meet his eye, sinking against the counter, away from Yeonjun’s hold. “You don’t mean that.”

“You just- I’m being serious, I won’t let you stay here.”

Yeonjun raises Soobin’s hand in his own, sliding their palms together, gripping tightly.

“So what if I stayed? I want to work on this with you, you _know_ how I feel about you,” Yeonjun’s voice breaks at the end, and it must strike a chord with Soobin, because Soobin immediately laces his fingers with Yeonjun’s own, grasping roughly until they intertwine perfectly, “I don’t want to leave you behind.”

“You hate this village, you would never be happy here, you can’t just say that.” 

“Soobin, I don’t _hate_ this village, I grew up here, you know I always come back, no matter what. Taehyun would never let me hear the end of it if I stayed away for too long, and _you’re here_ , how could I hate it here? Don’t talk like that.” Yeonjun bites down on his lower lip, eyes wide and looking for Soobin to understand, waiting for Soobin to _agree_ with him.

“Yeonjun, you don’t have to give up your life for me.”

“That’s not what this is!”

“You’ll resent me forever, if you stayed here,” Soobin flushes with guilt, and Yeonjun wants to hold onto him and insist that _he could never_ , but Soobin continues on quickly, “please don’t say things you don’t fully mean, it only makes this harder. I won’t have you give up on your life’s work, and you know you’d never ask the same of me.”

“What if I want to–”

“Yeonjun, _please_.”

“Why can’t you just accept that I’d give all of _this_ up for you?”

“You can have both.”

Soobin’s admission is quiet, and Yeonjun dares to look up. Soobin’s eyes are impossibly warm.

“My home is right here, in this village, and we both know that. But you, you need to be out there, doing what you love, meeting other travelers and collecting ingredients. I know that.”

Soobin smiles. It’s a rosy, lovely little smile, and Yeonjun melts.

“I’ll be here, everytime you return. I’ll give you a little piece of me, as long as you promise to bring it safely back.”

“I can promise that a hundred times over,” tumbles out before Yeonjun can stop himself, barely above a whisper, but Soobin _glows_ , reminding Yeonjun that they’re going to be okay, that Soobin is solid against him in this moment— that they’ll always have each other.

His very Soobin who held steady for the past few years—never once losing sight of his own goals, fostering friendships in his local village and expecting nothing more than companionship, continuing to work at Taehyun’s shop even when time wasn’t always an abundant resource—who continues to somehow show Yeonjun so much of their world, even when it’s Yeonjun who brings tales of fantastical lands.

His honey-sweet, resembling-something-a-lot-like-home Soobin.

(Yeonjun had curled against Soobin’s hip that night, sated between satin sheets, pressing lingering kisses to the top ridges of Soobin’s spine from where they were intertwined together, promising Soobin that they had forever in the cards.

Soobin believed him—he held close every promise whispered against the heat of his collar, Yeonjun's words inking themselves deep into his skin.

After all, he would never truly be apart from Yeonjun. He would always be waiting to welcome Yeonjun home.)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic stands alone as a complete work, but I will be uploading an epilogue in a few weeks! (That's more where the M rating will apply).
> 
> here's a HUGE show of love for the txt mods and all the work they did behind the scenes to make this bigbang possible, i appreciate and love you ♡


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